


Noblesse Oblige

by SodiumBicarb



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Finds Out, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 11:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7712527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SodiumBicarb/pseuds/SodiumBicarb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has always loved Camelot, but what spurs him to protect her is duty, not love. </p><p>or </p><p>Where Arthur has known about magic all along and just watches as the people he loves continue to lie to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noblesse Oblige

**Author's Note:**

> This is a **REPOST**. I only meant to edit it, but I changed so much that I figured that it deserved to be reposted.

Arthur considered himself a Prince before all; he placed that title before being Morgana's confidant, before being the knights' comrade, and even before being Uther's son. It was a philosophy that made the king proud; it befitted his status. A Prince, he was taught, was an epitome among knights, meant to possess the greatest skill in order to be the kingdom's last and infallible defense. It was not pride that spurred a Prince to fight, but duty. _'Noblesse oblige,'_ the duty of those in power to those without.

As a child he thought that the concept was obvious, but as he watched the other nobles strut around in their beautiful garments as their people starved, he wondered why no one seemed to practice it. Why did the nobles keep taking when they had plenty? How did such actions befit their stations?

 _'Perhaps,'_ he thought traitorously, _'Perhaps, if they cannot perform duty befitting their station, that station should be taken away.'_

* * *

The duty Arthur held in highest regard was executing the King's law. No matter the thrill of winning tournaments, there was no duty there, only expectation. As an Executioner of the law, he held people's lives at stake. It was his burden to judge them fairly, to not be swayed by money or status; it was a job he took seriously.

It was understandable, then, that when he saw Merlin's magic, the sword at his side didn't itch, it _burned_. He resisted the urge, because he _couldn't_ , not to his closest friend. Arthur refused to let Merlin's body burn, especially by his hand, yet laws were laws, and he could not break them in good conscious. 

But he did. 

His people trusted him to treat all criminals equally, to not lessen the sentence for family or friends; after all, that was not how justice worked, but here he was, committing the same atrocity that the nobles he reviled had done again and again.

He was not perfect; people fell through the cracks all the time, but there was a major difference between slipping through and turning a blind eye. As a (hopefully) non-tyrannical Prince, he hoped to be a moral example, but here he was, a hypocrite.

But this was _Mer_ lin. This was the boy who tripped over his own pants while carrying Arthur's breakfast tray, who was frequently late to his duties because he helped some hapless animal free itself from one of the knights' traps. This was a boy who believed in Arthur more than Arthur believed in himself, more than Uther believed; Merlin was, would forever be, Arthur's guiding star. He would rather slit his own throat than harm him.

Instead, Arthur held his tongue and sent his manservant on a vacation to Ealdor, hoping that the time apart would give him time to clear his head, but when he returned, the Prince's mind was just as muddled as before. There were books of questionable topics strewn across Gaius' spare room, and Arthur reluctantly dragged a blanket over therm. There were vials labeled in Greek on Gaius' shelf, hidden behind the normal salves, that bore names of mythical beasts, and once again, Arthur hid them. He gently pushed them towards the back and left.

He held his tongue for two people now. He reasoned that he was saving lives, that Gaius had those vials to counter other magic users and that Merlin wouldn't hurt a fly, but how many of the nobles that Arthur hated had the same reasoning? How many had thought that breaking the law for one loved one was worth it as long as it didn't happen again? (Until it did, but then more excuses would be made.)

Arthur feared that the only way he would be able to sleep soundly was if he stabbed himself in the heart.

* * *

The day Merlin returned, Arthur hadn't eaten a bite of breakfast and dismissed the knights' practice early. He laid in bed, chainmail still on, and waited for the source of his consternation to waltz through the door.

Merlin was fresh-faced and glowing, as if he hadn't been riding for the past week and had been relaxing in the baths. He bounced through the door as if he were in his own room, scolded the prince for dirtying the sheets with his armor, and rambled to Arthur as if they were equals.

It made the fear inside Arthur unwind. It was worth it, he reasoned, to keep Merlin alive. 

_Was it? Was that boy worth the entire foundation of his Princedom?_

Arthur let the stories of Ealdor wash over him, letting Merlin's voice beckon him back from the brink of anxiety. He made the right choice. _He made the right choice._

There were some things that transcended duty; friendship was one of them.

(Friendship was one of them.)

_(Friendship was one of them.)_

He wondered if repeating those words would make him feel better.

* * *

A happy Merlin was a sloppy Merlin. In the following week, Arthur saw a mop merrily dance around the floor as Merlin manually sewed the tears in his least favorite tunic, watched steam rise from his food no matter how long he purposefully delayed his entrance, and reveled in how warm his room remained, no matter how chilly the evenings were.

It was clear that Merlin only used magic to benefit Arthur, and it eased the tension lurking in his soul. Merlin was nothing like _those_ magic users. Nevertheless, Arthur made a promise to himself that if Merlin ever showed signs of hostility, Arthur would be the one to build and light the pyre.

(He watched a new knight bully Merlin, who ducked his head and backed away with a fierce glare. Even from a distance, Arthur saw Merlin baby his ribs from a confrontation that he hadn't seen. He waited, scanning for revenge, but it never came. All he saw was the knight's increased hostility and Merlin moving slower and slower. He didn't need Gwaine's disapproving glare to take action. He put a swift end to the knight, humiliated him and kicked him out. Then he ordered Merlin to help Gaius pick herbs or mix potions for the next week, whatever was less stressful.)

Merlin never raised a hand in retaliation, and while being relieved that Merlin _wasn't_ like those others, he worried for the boy. As much as Arthur wished that Merlin didn't have magic, he would never wish for his friend to be defenseless. It pained him to think that even if Merlin _had_ used magic against that knight, Arthur knew he would have turned a blind eye.

* * *

Arthur prided himself on his instincts, and as such, kept a bag of chamomile tea by his bed the week preceding the full moon.

An hour before dawn, Morgana slipped past his door as quiet and pale as a ghost. Arthur wasn't startled; he hadn't been sleeping. It was a testament to her mental state that she didn't notice. He ushered her into his favorite chair and fetched the kettle that had been warming all week. 

Instead of shooing her away like he used to, he poured he a cup of tea and gave her time. She sank into the furs, sighing with relief and exhaustion.

"I dreamed of war," she began. Arthur didn't interrupt her.

"All of Camelot was aflame-" He's seen the same, but his fires were from pyres instead of torches.

"There were dragons, swords, and so much death," she continued. Arthur listened patiently as she re-lived her dream. With his 'Merlin revelation,' he realized that Morgana's dreams had a prophetic aura about them and that it was wise to take them under advisement.

When she finished, she slumped into the chair and he tucked her in.

He wondered how many people he would bend the law for.

* * *

Gwaine and Lancelot knew of Merlin's magic. They didn't flaunt their knowledge; they were smarter than that(unlike _Mer_ lin), but it was clear to him once he knew their secret. It was obvious when they shrugged at the blue flames that engulfed their wet torches, the way they didn't question why tree branches kept falling on their enemies at opportune times, and how they patted Merlin on the back after said 'coincidences.'

Five people now, that he held his tongue for.

(Some childish part of his mind, the part that Morgana dubbed 'pre-Merlin,' yearned to expose them, _craved_ to see them punished for their betrayal, but Arthur wasn't that boy anymore. He was a Prince, now.)

How could he uphold justice while blinding himself so? What insight did a blinded Prince have?

* * *

_He just wanted someone to trust him, to tell him the truth; was that too much to ask?_

* * *

He watched Gwaine and Merlin drunkenly sing atop a table in one of the pubs in the lower town and wondered if he was the only one who thought of them as friends. Maybe his father was right; a Prince ruled alone.

* * *

He discovered Kilgharrah. The dragon. The _dragon_ underneath the castle that had been his home for his entire life.

He felt ill. The ground swayed, trying to swallow him and he happily went to meet it. The stones sliced his cheek, and he pressed further into them. He hoped that when he awoke, he would be in his bed with Merlin pretending to clean as he shuffled dust bunnies around.

"I did not expect to see you so soon, young Prince."

No such luck. Arthur snorted.

"You do not seem so surprised to see me; I expected a sword by now," the dragon said amusedly. Arthur raised a brow.

"Would a sword be of any use?"

A puff of flame grazed his cheek.

"You are calmer than I expected from Uther's child," it mused. Arthur held back a shrug; he was taught better manners than that.

"I am Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot," he introduced himself with a bow.

"Perhaps you are not the reverse side of his coin," it laughed as it too, bowed.

"I am called Kilgharrah, Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot. Tell me, how did you discover magic?"

Arthur told him. He recounted the tales of how those that he loved wore down his bones until they became dust and blew the dust into the wind. He told him how magic was his secret as much as those with it. Kilgharrah listened quietly, never interrupting, and when Arthur finished, the dragon pressed its head against the ledge and told the tale of how he too had been trapped by those he trusted.

* * *

They were a pair, Kilgharrah and he, cornered by Uthur Pendragon's paranoia.

* * *

Morgana and Merlin hid a druid boy named Mordred that Kilgharrah claimed would be the destroyer of Albion (which Arthur understood was Camelot), would kill Merlin, and would lead to the destruction of Arthur's people.

Arthur doubted it. He trusted his friends' judgment of the boy's character, but, if there was one lesson that Uther never let his son forget, it was that the sons of enemies always grew up stronger and more vengeful than their forefathers.

The assassination of the boy went smoothly. Throughout it, Arthur called Mordred 'boy' instead of 'druid,' because this wasn't an act of upholding his father's law; it was cold-blooded murder.

He crept into the storage room when the duo were distracted by the guards, and the flash in the boy's eyes was either be magic or from the light glinting off Arthur's dagger. He didn't know which, but knew better than to care. With the blood splatter still warm on his skin, Arthur wondered if this was what justice felt like.

_He finally upheld his father's law, and it was anything but just. It didn't feel like a Prince's duty, only an old man's malice._

Merlin's sniffles and Morgana's red eyes haunted him for weeks after, but Arthur ignored them just as he ignored their magic. He breathed deeply and pretended that he wasn't falling apart.

* * *

Arthur wandered away on a routine patrol and met a hermit who called himself Balinor. The man had Merlin's jaw and the same awkward smile. It took him barely a minute to blurt out, "I suppose his magic comes from your side of the family."

The man was instantly on the defensive, so Arthur made himself as unintimidating as possible. His sword was by his side, not so much as an apparent sign of vulnerability as knowledge that Balinor could probably magick his own sword to kill him. Besides, his daggers were safe in his boots.

"Hunith's son," Arthur explained. He heartily bit into his rabbit; it felt nice to expose his knowledge and acceptance of magic.

"This is a trick," the man spat. "You are the Crown Prince of Camelot."

Arthur stared blankly back. 

"I am indeed Arthur Pendragon," but he hadn't felt like a Prince in months.

"What do you want?" Balinor asked when it was clear that there were no knights laying in wake to arrest him.

Arthur smiled. He imagined that Merlin and Morgana would have said the same thing; they would wonder at the price for his silence.

"Nothing," he replied. He didn't want anything from them; he wanted to have earned their trust enough that they would never dream that he'd betray them like they did to him.

He left at dawn.

* * *

Throughout the years, magic users of all kinds entered the castle and attempted to seduce him, hoping to deal a devastating blow to Uther, but Arthur stood firm. He didn't use runes or spells to keep himself safe, merely the strength of his will. Freya's love spell settled over him, and it slid off him like water on an oiled fur. She tried again, and again it faded into the air.

It wasn't that he didn't find her attractive, rather, there was no love left in him, only duty. It was his duty to his kingdom that kept him awake during the day, surrounded by those who he loved but who loved him with conditions.

* * *

Merlin managed to toss Freya and her father out of the castle. Arthur heard about it from Kilgharrah.

* * *

"You've grown up well, young Prince," a woman crooned. "The spitting image of your mother."

Her name was Nimeuh, he learned later. She was the sorceress that allowed his mother to conceive. She had been his parents' friend before the pregnancy killed Ygraine, which set Uther on a warpath.

 _'He made that law because of me,'_ Arthur thought to himself. _He_ was the reason that his friends feared for their lives, why Gwen's father was sentenced to death without a by-your-leave. He was worse than a tyrant; he was a harbinger of death.

Perhaps he was never meant to be a Prince. Strip away his delusions of duty and wasn't he the same flavor of tyrant as his father? He was merely an extension of his father's will, after all.

* * *

Uther fell ill that autumn. Kilgharrah rejoiced as Arthur called upon every ounce of duty left in him to preserve his sanity. Beside him, Merlin fretted. It was clear from Gaius' assessment that magic had been involved, and the boy worried that Arthur would do something rash.

Arthur's new philosophy was to do the opposite of what the old him would have done. Past!Arthur would have dealt a heavy hand to magic and point to his father as the reason why; new!Arthur knew that the past him had been a fraud and refused such actions. He holed himself up in his father's studies and listened to the nobles drone on about taxes and crops. A kingdom was, afterall, only as strong as the components that made it.

Magic, he realized, was as much a component as citizens in a town or knights in the council; it was another resource to be used.

* * *

He declined the knights' invitations to the pub; death via poisoning was becoming more plausible with each passing day. Instead, he snuck off to his mother's grave and prayed to her for strength and guidance.

* * *

Reports trickled in that Cendred had prepared his army and was ready to invade the lands. Arthur rallied his knights, scattered them around him as he stood to give his speech to the city.

"Citizens! Enemies have yearned to overtake our lands for decades, but we have held strong. Soon, King Cendred of Essetir will step foot upon these lands and attempt what many before him have failed. And he will fail, but only if we gather our strengths," he stared at the crowd, saw their confusion because what could citizens do against an army?

He took a steadying breath. He caught of glimpse of Merlin's bright scarf in the courtyard, the boy fidgeting in confusion.

"Strength comes in many forms. The knights you see behind me have several, but many amongst yourself have a strength that these knights can never hope to obtain."

Some of his men shifted awkwardly. From the corner of his eyes, Leon stilled in comprehension.

"I, Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot, formally repeal King Uther Pendragon's Purge of magic."

He exited to silence.

* * *

"The king won't be happy when he hears this," Leon said, but there were no accusations, just an obligatory warning.

Arthur continued working.

"It's not about his opinion; it's about what's right for Camelot," he eventually replied. He raised his head, but Leon had left long before.

"It's about justice," he whispered, "It's about righting the rule of a tyrant."

* * *

Some of the knights were as displeased as if their name were Uther Pendragon and had lost their wives to magick. They voiced their opinions angrily, abet softly under their breath.

Arthur faced their indignation head-on.

"Do you begrudge yourselves for your skill with a sword? For your height? Your good health?" He asked them.

"Of course not, sire!" They exclaimed.

Arthur sighed, the weight of the months bearing down on him.

"Then do not begrudge those who cannot fight with swords as you do for finding another way to protect themselves. They only wish to do what we knights do every day; protect the ones we love."

* * *

Days after the announcement, Merlin tried to apologize, but Arthur fled. He couldn't handle that on top of everything else.

* * *

"Sire-"

"I know about your magic, Merlin," Arthur interjected. Merlin did his best impression of a rabbit caught in a trap.

"Don't worry about it. I've known for a while."

Arthur felt a smidgen guilty at the frightened look on boy; he didn't have any energy left to listen to excuses. This was a conversation years in the making, and circumstances forced it out into the open. Arthur wondered how long it would have taken Merlin to confess, a decade? A lifetime? When Arthur was injured and couldn't wring his neck?

He instructed the boy to fetch supper even though he wasn't hungry. As soon as the door closed, he slumped into his seat.

He thought that Merlin's big reveal would feel like closure, that there were no more secrets between them, but it only felt like a deeper betrayal.

* * *

"Arthur," Morgana began, but Arthur steam-rolled right over her.

"What do you think our chances are if we attack from the ridge?"

"Better than from the forest, but-"

"Hm, we'll be exposed... but perhaps if we sent the calvary down the southern-"

"Arthur!" she exclaimed in exasperation. He glanced up and raised a brow.

"Yes? You _do_ remember that there will be a war at our doorstep soon?" he drawled. He wanted to avoid a disastrous conversation.

"I... I wanted to tell you that it was a brave thing you did...when you repealed that law," she quietly told him. He took pity on her and clasped a hand on her shoulder.

"It was the _right_ thing to do."

She smiled at his words. For the first time since Mordred's death, she looked hopeful.

* * *

Balinor, in full Dragon Lord regalia, appeared at the castle gates, much to the consternation of absolutely everyone.

Gaius looked as if he was about to faint, much to Arthur's amusement.

"Balinor," he greeted amicably. The knights shifted nervously.

"Your Highness. I heard that Camelot was in need of my services." Around them, the Camelot rumor mill started to turn.

Arthur laughed.

"Yes. We have a rather large dragon who's been nothing but a nuisance," he told the man in a faux whisper. Balinor's eyes widened.

"He's still..."

"As cryptic as ever, yes," Arthur finished for him as they made their way into the castle.

Arthur was elated. Here was an icon of the Magical Age who trusted the Prince when he declared amnesty for magic, who trusted those words enough to oust himself sans dragon. Arthur was humbled by the trust. During the following days, magic users pour from the kingdom, each with their own skills and enough honor and duty to rival any knight's. Not for the first time, Arthur was proud to be their Prince.

* * *

Merlin was noticeably more cheerful after being united with his father. It baffled Arthur that a man as calm and level-headed as Balinor could have sired a child as spastic as Merlin. He told the man so.

"He was always an exuberant child. He used to kick Hunith so hard I thought she would give birth right then."

Arthur snorted and drank another pitcher.

Balinor set his mug down.

"You've known about his magic for quite some time," he stated. Arthur pretended to keep drinking.

"He apologies for keeping it from you."

Arthur put down his drink.

"Of course. Some of the knights have expressed the same sentiment." Lancelot and Gwaine, the latter more bluntly than the former.

Arthur relented to the silence.

"I understand that he did not wish to create a rift between my father and I. He didn't want to make me _choose._ " Arthur struggled to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Tell him not to worry; I forgave him a long time ago." He forgave them for their deception, hoping that they could forgive him for his.

* * *

The invasion ended with Cendred running home with his tail between his legs. His army was demolished, weak in the face of Merlin's magic and the combined power of Balinor and Kilgharrah. Cendred's own magic users pledged alliance to Camelot, hoping to escape the dismal conditions they faced in Essetir.

The army rode back to songs and merriment, and during the grand feast, Arthur ordered Merlin to wear the silly costume again, and just like that Merlin's tense spine unwound and the boy's smiles were full again.

The citizens waited for a repeal of the repealed law that never came. The magic users cheered. Inside the castle, Uther remained unconscious.

* * *

Gaius' bellows echoed through the hall. _The king has awoken! The king has awoken!_

The court whispered, their eyes trained on the solemn profile of their Prince.

* * *

After he'd been cleared by Gaius, Uther's first action was to summon his son. The kingdom waited with bated breath.

* * *

"How dare you betray me!" Uther snarled as the door closed behind Arthur. Once upon a time, those words would have been like swords through his heart; today, they were flies in early winter. Arthur didn't regret his decision, and never would. Should skirmishes break out because of the repeal or a God-forbid a civil war, he would stand by his choice. He would remember the way Merlin's eyes lit up when he saw his father, or the way Morgana hugged him. He'd remember how his people stood by him with no fear in their eyes because they were no longer persecuted by their own kingdom. It was his duty as Prince to keep Camelot healthy.

He stared at his father impassively. The man once taught him that justice was a balance, that as a King, Arthur needed to be an impartial judge. Staring at the fuming face of his father, he saw his future. He saw Gaius as his advisor, just as he was for Uther, counseling with kind eyes and wise words. He imagined Kilgharrah with his all-seeing sight and aloof demeanor visiting from far away lands; he saw Balinor, with his calm aura and strong profile ageing as he taught a platoon of magic users. All of these men were fit to be the King his father once spoke of, but not Uther, not now.

Arthur could see his future; it was what he owed his kingdom.

He bowed shallowly. 

"Long live the King; the king is dead." He exited to his father's shocked silence.

It was not his pleasure to take the throne; it was his duty.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that you all liked the edits! It's still not perfect, but I'm a whole lot happier with it. Also, I wrote this on an html text editor, so the spell check isn't great. Please tell me if there are any mistakes! 
> 
> Sidenote: I know that Balinor did not know of Hunith's pregnancy, but I really liked that interaction, so I kept it. Sorry.


End file.
